5/20/09

WinoLand and The Genetically Late

My weekend began before I was ready. And it seemed, unbeknownst to me, that this was going to be an ongoing theme.
Before I go any further, I feel I need to share a little bit about myself and my personal entertaining quirks. Before guests arrive, I have typically set out to accomplish a completely impossible list of things to do:#1 sweep the floors, #2 dust all ceilings and ceiling fans, #3 hang those shelves in the living room that I haven't even bought yet and then paint them and the wall they're on....you get my point. So it was no surprise that when our friends showed up 2 hours early, my house was in Class 4 Tornado mode. Or that I had the wild look of terror on my face after juggling two piano lessons while Ana was napping, I mean WASN'T napping through the entire hour (I admitted I struggle with managing two kids, so THREE kids at once is WAY over my head). That my children had been home sick for three days and that my responsibility to household duties had been replaced by my more recent job title as "Infirmary Wench". This is the vocation where it seems all the customers are short and crabby, they have feverish eyes and whiny voices and make impossible demands that usually end in tearful crying. They refer to you as "Mommy" but what that translates into is more like "Woman who wipes my ass, my nose and does anything I want her to just to keep me from whining" including juggling knives and standing on her head for hours at a time with fire in her hair for entertainment purposes. You get my point: Sick kids at home=overworked mom/dirty house.
"Oh My Goodness! You're Here... and You're Early..." I offer (aka Miss Obvious) as our longtime friends arrive at the door after a 6 hour drive and I haven't seen them for two years. Not "HI"! Not "How was your drive?" Just a look of shock and countless glances over my shoulder at the dust on those fans, the filthy floors, all those friggin toys EVERYWHERE, and the lack of shelves and paint on the Impossible Wall. I unwillingly let them past me and into our home. And then followed them around busying myself with the counters, cleaning the appliances, and making conversation with them and my internal self at one time, Aloud: "So you had a good drive?" Internal "Holy Shit there are strawberries on the floor!" Aloud, "What time did you guys leave this morning?" Internal "You're resting on a counter top covered in Teddy Graham Crumbs." Aloud "How long has it been since we saw you?" Internal "Is the toilet still clogged? DO I hear water running? Am I sweating?" I was the poster child for "Distraction" and I'm sure Miss Manners would have flogged me right then and there when I repeated, "Wow, you guys are REALLY early."
And you're thinking, how bad could it possibly be? And then you're thinking about my new year's resolution: "Open Door Policy", remember? I said I'd try to be better about inviting people into my home no matter what state it's in.
Okay, well, that policy DOES NOT apply to guests who've made a reservation at my home months in advance! I should be prepared for them. I should have all the duties completed so the entire weekend runs like a fine oiled machine, no hiccups, no glitches, no dinner prep because it's already in the oven, no piles of laundry cuz it's already washed, folded and put away.
So, getting back to the short version of my weekend, most of which I spent clinging to its coattails in hopes of making it to the end with an ounce of sanity to my name.
So I played catchup all afternoon and then I offered my guests a tour of our charming downtown with John as their chauffeur so I could sweep the floors and make the salad and maybe dust a ceiling fan or three. The following morning my parents were scheduled to arrive so they could watch the kids overnight. This freed me up to help John at Wine Festival in Paso Robles and spend the evening away with our guests. But, genetics took precedent and they were late. Which left me time to dust the ceilings, change the sheets and pick out paint for that wall. And when they finally arrived I was really really late to help John in Paso...arriving in time to watch the final hour of wine tasting drunkards stumble around the park in 104 degree heat. We had planned to spend the entire night in Paso Robles with friends. With this I will only pause to comment on the herd of high school alumni women who stumbled into our evening scene and somehow deemed my husband the Mickey Mouse character at their WinoLand Theme Park, squeezing me out like the head of a giant pimple. I must say that from the corner wall I had flowered myself to, I observed a lot of attention showered on my oblivious husband, more than enough one way hugging and hanging on his neck. So much so that after the first hour I was sober and annoyed. The rest of my evening brought more of the same, adding only a feeling of neglect, then frustration, and finally self pity to my above mentioned state.
Feeling less than refreshed after my evening watching Mickey in WinoLand, I awoke the next morning to prepare for my sister's bridal shower. I raced out the door to the shower, but I was already late. And when I screeched into the grocery store parking lot for the champagne I offered to bring (but had forgotten about until this moment) I made the dreaded wardrobe call to my sister. "What are you wearing?" I asked as I piled champagne onto the check stand. And when she told me about her sexy blue dress and cute espadrilles I looked myself up and down and reconsidered my cotton maxi dress and gold sandals...yes, I was comfortable, but too casual for a bridal shower. Already 15 minutes late to the party, another 5 wasn't gonna win back my pride, so I changed my outfit in the grocery store parking lot-because any well prepared mother, no matter how late she is, always carries a spare pair of Italian Leather wedges, a silk flutter blouse and matching slacks wherever she goes.
Looking good, but late again.

2 comments:

JO said...

Well that sucks - sorry! I was happy to escape the reunion and go into my anonymous oblivion with my last name that nobody knows (with my hat pulled down and my sunglasses on!)
Next time call me and I will come rescue you-or we can hang out next to the wall and talk shit, just like high school!

JO said...

p.s. Hope the shower was great!